


The Scarecrows

by Flame_05



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghost Hunters, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Hunters, Arthur Whump, Campfires, Demon Hunters, Ghost Hunters, Horror, Hunters & Hunting, Hurt Arthur Morgan, Protective Hosea Matthews, Scary, Thriller
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:00:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 2,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25580992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flame_05/pseuds/Flame_05
Summary: When Charles tells a chilling story about murderous living scarecrows around the campfire one evening, Arthur decides to go on a hunt
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

As the evening grew later in Clemens Point most of the gang had retired to bed for the night, but a few men remained at the campfire. There was never a lack of companionship within the Van Der Linde gang, and the campfire was often host to friendly drinks and the sharing of stories. This evening the storytelling had taken a darker turn, with Charles very sombrely telling the assembled men about the supernatural ‘living scarecrows’ that silently roamed the country, seeking out bloodshed. Charles described in great detail the grotesque, gory mess left behind in the home of any farmer family unfortunate enough to have become prey to these sinister living scarecrows.


	2. Are They Real?

Arthur could only squint in bewilderment at Charles as his storytelling continued. Having never heard of the horror of living scarecrows before, Arthur didn’t know whether or not to believe Charles’ words. Arthur knew that there were supernatural and unexplained oddities in the world, and had certainly come across some in his time, but a species of living scarecrow with murderous intent seemed somewhat absurd. Charles wasn’t the type to fabricate stories however and Arthur found himself being more and more entranced as Charles went on. He turned his eyes to subtly study Hosea’s face, still visible in the orange glow from the fire. Hosea seemed serious, nodding every so often as Charles spoke. That settled it in Arthurs mind. If Hosea was taking Charles’ words to be fact rather than fiction, and with no hint of humour, then these scarecrow creatures must indeed be real.

Later, as Arthur settled down to sleep, he was unable to clear his mind of the image of sadistic scarecrows. He began to ponder over attempting to hunt them...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first ever #fanfiction, and first creative writing in years, so this is far from perfect! Originally posted as a series on Instagram, so each chapter is quite short


	3. Stay Safe, Son

Rising with the sun, Arthur set about completing his usual morning camp chores, all the while thinking about Charles's damn story. By 8am he had made up his mind and prepared his horse with all the kit he would need for a few days hunting. Arthur would often go off on his own for stretches of time, always returning with meat and pelts for Pearson, and handfuls of cash to add to the camps funds. While he knew that no one would worry about his absence, he had to admit to himself that deliberately going after malicious supernatural beings wasn't usually what his solo trips would entail. With the camp still slowly waking up, Arthur made his way to Hosea and gently woke him. As Arthur told him his plan he could see the worry in Hosea's eyes grow, but the older man knew that there was no dissuading Arthur once his mind was set. With Hosea's "stay safe, son" in his ears Arthur made his way out of camp for his peculiar hunt.


	4. So Many Scarecrows

Arthur had never before stopped to consider just how many scarecrows were in existence, and he didn’t know how to properly distinguish between a regular scarecrow, and a supernatural living being. From Charles’s stories the night before, it was in fact almost impossible to tell until the moment that the scarecrow would become animated and then inevitably wreak havoc. Looking like a fool he went from field to field, trying to avoid prying eyes of farmhands as he not so subtly prodded at scarecrows, trying to find…something. As it reached early evening of the first day, Arthur was almost ready to abandon his hunt altogether. If he rode hard, he could be back at camp and have a few hours’ sleep on his cot before sunrise. Just as he was turning to head back to the road, one more scarecrow caught his eye, standing in a grassy passage between cornfields. It was not far away, yet he hadn’t noticed it until that very moment. With a growing feeling of unease, he urged his horse forwards towards the scarecrow.


	5. A Horses Bond

The bond between Arthur and his horse was strong, and on no occasion had she ever bucked him off in an attempt to gallop away from a bad situation. Not being attacked by wolves, nearly hit by lightning, nor when amongst a storm of bullets from some disgruntled rival gang. Yet at this very moment Arthur felt dangerously close to being thrown from the saddle. The closer they had gotten to the scarecrow the more agitated his mare had gotten, until eventually with a “woah there gurl” Arthur had her back them away from the scarecrow. Dismounting and calming her with a few pats, he left her by a tree not too far away. Close enough that he would quickly be able to run back to her if a retreat became necessary, but far enough that she could safely take herself out of harms way if things were to turn nasty. The world seemed to slow as he walked towards the lone scarecrow, and all the noises of the evening animals faded away. Arthur could not recall having ever felt so…peculiar. Although he had no solid evidence or any real reason to, every fibre of his being was screaming at him to destroy this…thing. It was no ordinary scarecrow, of that he was shoarr. He reached into his satchel and took out a stick of dynamite, looping it round the scarecrows belt, then proceeded to ignite it. The most peculiar sensation then took over him and he found himself unable to look away from the face of the scarecrow as the world around him faded from his mind. With a jolt he came back to his senses to hear his mare frantically whinny’ing for him and with barely a second left to spare he run and dived away from the scarecrow just as the dynamite blasted, sending a wave of heat and fire over Arthurs back as he hit the ground.


	6. Sleep

Seeing lanterns and hearing distant shouts from the farm buildings on the other side of the field Arthur knew he had no time to examine the remains of the scarecrow. He had never acquired Dutch’s silver tongue, or Hosea’s acting skills, and knew there would be no way for him to explain to the farmers why he had ignited dynamite in the middle of their corn fields. He didn’t want to have to fight them and he certainly didn’t want them reporting him to the law, so he hastily mounted his mare and took off into the night. His mind raced as he tried to process the peculiar scenario, but he had no doubts that that had been no ordinary scarecrow. Knowing that to stop and camp would be pointless, his racing mind would never grant him sleep now, he instead rode on through the night seeking out more fields and studying more scarecrows. Having found nothing of interest he knew as dawn broke that his horse would need to rest. He stopped in the shade of some trees beside a grassy meadow, far from any crop fields and potential scarecrows out for vengeance. Sitting leaning against a tree he gulped down some dried smoked venison and a can of peaches before his eyes began to slip closed and exhaustion carried him straight to sleep.


	7. Attack Of The Scarecrow

Waking a few hours later, Arthur felt back of neck started to prickle, at the same time as his horse started to whinny. His mind was screaming danger at him, the same feeling he’d get during a gunfight when someone had gotten behind him, or on the trail just before a wolf would lunge from the treeline. Getting to his feet, he froze. There, in the middle of the grassy meadow, stood a scarecrow. Arthur knew with complete certainty that it had not been there before he had his nap. Did the scarecrow creatures somehow communicate? Did it know that he had destroyed one the previous night, and was it after him for revenge? Letting out a low growl Arthur approached it, knives in each hand, and quickly and precisely threw two straight into it’s head where, for a human, its brain would be meaning an instant kill. Then there was…nothing. Absolutely nothing had happened. Confident that the supernatural being was dead, but still wary, he slowly approached it to retrieve his knives. He returned one to his satchel, and as he reached out to take the other his hand was suddenly grabbed. He let out a startled “shit” but unable to take his desired step back on surprise as his wrist was gripped tight. Scratchy from rough straw, yet with a furious intensity, the scarecrow gripped him tight and began to emit a ghoulish, guttural noise. Arthur could feel his heart pounding, but did not allow the panic to overtake him. Instead he reached into his satchel with his free hand and found a match, lighting it against his belt and raising it to the scarecrows other, still stationary, hand. The sleeve quickly caught fire and as the ghoulish noises heightened in pitch he wrenched his hand free. Stumbling backwards Arthur grabbed a dynamite stick from his satchel, quickly lit and threw it at the creature which had started to reach towards him. In his panic his aim was off, and the dynamite landed several feet behind the scarecrow, blasting debris and sparks into the air, setting more of the scarecrow ablaze. Engulfed in flame, it stopped reaching towards Arthur and fell to the ground, writhing and smouldering as it's horrific noises were silenced.


	8. The End Of The Hunt?

Arthur was unsettled after his afternoon encounter but was determined to continue hunting for the creatures for the remainder of the day and night, with the intention of heading back to camp and the gang in the morning. By nightfall he felt like a fool again, having found nothing but undeniably ordinary scarecrows and once again having looked very suspicious to several different farmers who were none too impressed to find him on their land. Riding on the outskirts of another field, Arthur stilled as he heard what could be screams being carried on the wind. He urged his mare through the field then stopped as he encountered another scarecrow. 

After a few moments, Arthur let out a breath he didn’t realise he had been holding as once again nothing peculiar had happened. Deciding that his hunt was over, he pulled on the reigns to turn around when suddenly his horse let out a panicked sounding whinney. Furrowing his brow, he dismounted and turned towards the scarecrow, deciding to have one last inspection…


	9. The Scream

He took his sidearm and pointed it directly at the scarecrow, “come on then you bastard”…but nothing. Chuckling to himself Arthur lowered his gun. The two creatures which he had already encountered and destroyed had gotten his imagination racing, but he reassured himself that most scarecrows must be completely normal inanimate sacks of straw. 

He took a few steps away then paused. He had heard screaming, hadn’t he? Frowning again he happened to cast his eyes down, then widened them as he spotted pools of blood on the ground. Splatters of crimson staining the ground between the not too distant cabin, and the scarecrow behind him. “Son of a bitch”. Heart racing, he gripped his gun again and began to turn around. Suddenly he was knocked hard to the ground as he heard a ghoulish noise and the rustle of crops. Scrambling to his feet, Arthur saw that the scarecrow had vanished, leaving only quivering crop leaves behind it. 

Annoyed at having allowed himself to be tricked, Arthur clenched his teeth and took off running into the crop field, determined to find and destroy one more of these ominously mysterious creatures. If the creature had run away, then it must fear him, and if it feared him then Arthur had every confidence that he could destroy it.


	10. Human Bullets

“I’ve got you now, you sunovabitch”. Panting slightly from having run through the crops, Arthur confidently raised his gun, pointing directly at the scarecrows head as he moved closer. 

All the noises of the nocturnal animals, and even the rustling of crop leaves, silenced as Arthur focussed solely on the supernatural being in front of him. A low, rasping noise started, which heightened in volume and pitch the closer Arthur got with his gun. Just as the noise morphed into an ear splitting, guttural wail, Arthur emptied his chamber into the scarecrows head, bullet becoming deeply imbedded in whatever lay behind the sack mask. 

Satisfied, Arthur turned his back on the now dead creature, and began to head back towards where he left his horse. Then the back of his neck began to prickle, and coming from behind him in a voice so dissonant and unnerving, “your human bullets can’t destroy me…”


	11. But This Can

Instead of being consumed by fear, the corner of Arthurs mouth curled up in a smirk, “No, but this can”. 

In one swift movement he spun around, fire bottle in hand, and hurled it into his target. Instantly consumed by flames, the vile creature writhed and wailed as it became ash. His interactions with the supernatural had been few and far between, but even as a boy Hosea and Dutch made sure to teach him that fire would kill most of the things that walked this earth. 

Arthur stood and watched, fire reflected in his eyes, as the scarecrow finally fell silent and unmoving. After a moment of satisfaction, he turned his attention to the soft glow of a cabin on the other side of the field. If he had been right in hearing screams, then his conscience urged him to check on the cabins occupants.


	12. So Much Blood

The coppery scent of blood hit Arthur as soon as he opened the cabin door. Having spent most of his life as an outlaw, Arthur had seen many horrific and gory messes but this, this was enough to turn even his stomach. Regret washed over him that he had been hunting these scarecrows so close by, yet had been too late to save this family. Organs and chunks of flesh were scattered around the floor, with crimson pools of blood surrounding the unfortunate farmer and his wife. As the first signs of morning light creeped over the horizon, Arthur was hit by exhaustion, but he wouldn’t leave before burying the poor couple. He felt he owed them that much at least.


	13. The end?

On his return to camp, after being cuffed around the head by Ms Grimshaw and harshly instructed to wash and change into clean clothes, Arthur made his way over to Hosea. “Hiya Arthur, how was the hunt?”   
As Arthur sat and told his tale to Hosea, somewhere out there a scarecrow stood in its field, patiently watching, and waiting for its next victim.


End file.
